


Stress, Sloth, Servants and Solstheim

by Satsumaimo



Series: Keeper of the Black Books [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Addiction, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcohol Withdrawal, College of Winterhold - Freeform, Eventual Romance, Friendship/Love, Jealousy, Multi, Skyrim - Freeform, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-06 13:30:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6755986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Satsumaimo/pseuds/Satsumaimo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're leaving the college?"</p><p>"I have no choice. Having a Telvanni master guiding me seems to be the only solution to my parents."</p><p>"I happen to have a quest involving Solstheim..."</p><p>"Is J'zargo and friends travelling to Solstheim? He will learn many new spells in strange land, yes?"</p><p>Brelyna, descending from a line of Telvanni mages, has big shoes to fill. After a year and her parents not seeing any progress, they negotiated with Neloth about him taking Brelyna in as an apprentice.</p><p>Since she arrived, Eira's been getting strange dreams and thoughts, the only thing she remembers are trees. What could her vague dreams mean?</p><p>Onmund has grown skill-wise in the Destruction school since joining the college and leaving his family behind. Surprised at his brother's enrolment, he keeps a wary eye on him as there's more to Vidar than they think. He also starts to develop a foreign emotion towards the latest addition to the college.</p><p>After attacks from peculiar cultists and a note, the Dragonborn sets out to Solstheim with his group of new and old friends. How will he deal with the conflict in between his companions? How will Marcurio stop him from stealing cheese wheels?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stress, Sloth, Servants and Solstheim

Eira sat nervously in the Frozen Hearth, a distance away from the fire, grilled leeks and soup gone cold. The bard's music playing in the background, crackling flames and idle chatter filled the inn's space. The musky smell of hide and burning wood crept up her nose. Eira swirled the water around in her cup, the thin film of ice that was forming on the water's surface now broken. She sighed, and lowered her cup. Her feet tapping the stone floors in a continuos beat.

"You can do this Eira," she muttered to herself. "They'll let you in." The Imperial breathed out and massaged her temples. The nervousness overwhelming her being, the silky wings of butterflies brushing against her insides and cold skeleton fingers brushing up and down her spine. A small flame of hope burning in her chest and a sense of responsibility sitting on her shoulders, each second going by only seemed to add weight to the said load. Many questions bubbled up in her brain, like an overgrown garden of emotions. Will they like me? Will I have friends? I do hope it's warm over there...

"Are you well, miss?" A young man's voice asked. Eira glanced up from her sulking. A Nord sat beside her, her small bag in between them. He looked as if he tried to be aware of the space between them as he is a couple inches away from the bag. Eira mentally noted his respect for her personal space, even if she didn't mind. "You look nervous." She gave him a reassuring smile, and nodded.

"I'm fine. A little nervous, however," she replied. Eira took in his appearance. She noticed his attire was one of a farmer's, accompanied by a cloak, a dagger and a bag. The end of the cloak was frayed and dirtied, course strings coming loose from the rest of the tightly woven others. The dagger, although intimidatingly catching the warm glow of the fire and glinting, was blunt and worn. Traces of maroon blood left in its scratches. A traveller too? She thought to herself. "Where are you travelling to?"

"This is my destination," he explained. "I plan on going to the College of Winterhold." Eira's eyes lit up and her smile grew.

"I have the same plans," she said. After a pause, Eira offered, "We could go together, if you want."

"That'd settle my doubts a little. I have to admit, I'm rather nervous as well," he said and smiled sheepishly. "I didn't think it would be this daunting. Being a Nord and all." Eira nodded in understanding. Nords can be rather skeptical about magic. Not to mention learning it.

"Don't worry. I won't judge or anything," she reassured. "My name is Eira. What's yours?"

"Vidar, miss." Vidar smiled and offered a hand. Eira took it and gave it a brief shake. She loosened her grip and her hand found its way back to the cup of water.

"So, what made a Nord want to study the Arcane arts?" Eira asked, eyebrow raised, and lifted the cup to her lips.

"My older brother got accepted into the college last year and I wanted to follow his example," Vidar started eagerly, "but our parents were against it. We managed to convince them though. I stayed back a while as I was too young and needed to help with the farm."

"You have an older brother?"

"Yes, I do." he confirmed. "His name is Onmund. Do you have any siblings?"

"I have a little sister and brother," Eira replied. She lowered her cup onto the table. "They both prefer swords or lutes than magic." Chuckling, Eira made a sword-swinging motion with her free hand. "I, on the other hand, was the odd one out." Vidar's smile dimmed, soon replaced by a bitter expression. Eira, too busy with her cold food, took no notice of his mumbling.

He chewed on his lip and clenched his fist before saying, "...I better get going." Vidar stood up abruptly and grabbed his bag from the bench. "The sooner I get there, the better." Eira looked up at the Nord, puzzled.

"I thought we were going together–"

"You still have a meal to finish," he interrupted, giving Eira a blank look. "It would be a waste of coin to throw a good meal away." Vidar left, just like that. He opened the door and exited the inn. The brief exposure to the cold weather sent an uncomfortable chill up her exposed arms, as well as the abrupt change of mood Vidar displayed.

 

 

The nights in the fields and the city of the Whiterun hold held a serene aura. The two moons shinning what little light it can give down at the nighttime hunters, wandering drunkards and laid-back guards. Torches flickered and danced, the evening breeze brushing through the fields.

The Bannered Mare, however, was lively in contrast to the outdoors. The people sang, drank and danced to the songs of the bard.

_Alduin's wings, they did darken the sky,_  
_His roar fury's fire, and his scales sharpened scythes._  
_Men ran and they cowered, and they fought and they died._  
_They burned and they bled as they issued their cries._

He, the Dragonborn, sat the farthest away from the centre of the activities. A tankard of mead (that's not Black-Briar for he despised Maven) sat in front of him. He swayed side to side, his vision distorted and his brain swimming. He rested his head on the table, attempting to stop the dizziness with a groan. The room seemed to revolve around the legend, the sounds muffled and incomprehensible.

Marcurio made his way through the crowd, his mouth dry from recounting the adventures he experienced with the Dragonborn, at the same time wet from the mead he's drunken. His expression was one of jolly and bliss, his movements also slow with a slight clumsy swagger of a drunk. Marcurio emerged from the crowd and frowned at the sight of his friend.

"Asger!" He called out over the noises. Asger didn't move an inch, but released another annoyed groan. Marcurio sighed and settled himself behind the opposite side of the round table. "Why brood over here when there are people celebrating you over there? I'm fine with you making me your pack mule, carrying your damn sweet rolls. But this has gone too far."

"Leave me be." Asger grunted, his face down on the table.

_We need saviors to free us from Alduin's rage,_  
_Heroes on the field of this new war to wage._  
_And if Alduin wins, man is gone from this world,_  
_Lost in the shadow of the black wings unfurled._

Marcurio's frown deepened. He reached for his bag and rummaged through it, grimacing when feeling the stickiness of the sugary sweet roll.

'Asger and his damn sweet rolls,' he thought, slightly humoured. 'At least it's not as bad as the cheese wheels.'

The mage hummed in triumph once he pulled out a parchment. It read:

_Arch-Mage Asger,_

_Since the defeat of Alduin and you taking over as Arch-Mage, we have received more students and the treasury is rather packed from the increase of our requested services. We would like you to oversee the reconstruction or possible additions to the college. We eagerly await your arrival. May the Nine guide you in your journey._

_Warm regards, Tolfdir_

_P.S. If it is no trouble, I need your assistance in finding my alembic._

"Asger, the college is requesting your presence." Marcurio reminded him. "This letter was from three days ago, wasn't it? When will you stop drinking and drag your sorry self there?"

Asger shifted and looked up from his position, bags under his eyes and creased with a permanent scowl.

"Just tell Tolfdir to take over my position..." Asger slurred and reached for the tankard of mead.

_But then came the on that terrible day._  
_Steadfast as winter, they entered the fray._  
_And all heard the music of Alduin's doom,_  
_The sweet song of Skyrim, sky-shattering._

Marcurio swatted his hand away and grabbed the tankard. He took a long swig, and tossed the vessel aside. Asger watched his precious mead go with his mouth agape. His eyebrow twitched as Marcurio wiped away the mead from his chin.

"There. Leave the mead drinking to me, Asger," he chuckled cheekily and leaned back in his chair. "Get your shit together friend! I prefer not to be seen with a drunkard by my side as I prance towards glory and fame."

"Go ahead then." Asger gestured to the door and lowered his head down on the table. "Go prance towards glory and fame." Marcurio's expression fell. He gazed down at his friend with a sympathetic expression, his mouth set in a hard line and eyebrows furrowed. It's been like this since he defeated Alduin, became the Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold, and defeated Miraak. Afterwards he just broke and turned to drinking; just wanting to forget the horrible sights and mistakes. His so-called 'glory' tires him. Marcurio stood by his side majority of the quests as his faithful companion in his journeys and observed as he collapsed.

"Asger," Marcurio started, "as much as I do not want to admit this, I see you as one of the greatest people I know, or have met. I don't want to lose my best friend to drinking. Tolfdir wouldn't want you to do this. Or J'zargo. Or Brelyna. Or Onmund. Or–"

"Alright alright!" Asger exclaimed, sitting back up. "Marc–"

"No no no, let me finish." Marcurio cut him off with a hand out, a finger up, gesturing him to hush. "You're stronger than this, Asger. As your best friend, a skilled mage companion–"

"Just get on with it!"

"I don't think of you as god-like, as others would treat you as so. You're a person, like me. Your other friends think that too. Believe me. I've talked with them."

"..." Marcurio smirked, knowing he won this round. He gave his friend a hard pat on the shoulder and said,

"At least do it for them." Asger nodded. He muttered under his breath about Marcurio owing him a drink. The mage laughed, then broke into a deadpan.

"Never. Not even for all the gold in Tamriel."

_And so the Tongues freed us from Alduin's rage,_  
_Gave the gift of the Voice, ushered in a new Age!_  
_And if Alduin's eternal, then eternity's done,_  
_For his story is over and the dragons are gone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If all goes well, I'll work on this story more. I'm a little eager as I have many plans for these two XD Do leave some feedback on how I did if you want. I like to find ways to improve my writting.

**Author's Note:**

> Do tell me what you think of it so far ^^ I'd love to get feedback!
> 
> Keeper of the Black Books will be organised into arcs. I think there'll be approximately seven or eight of them? They shouldn't be the LOTR long don't worry XD I think.


End file.
